


Swan Song

by prodigalpoet



Series: Soulmates [23]
Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: F/F, POV Eve Polastri, POV Second Person, POV Villanelle | Oksana Astankova
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-19
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:00:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27632429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prodigalpoet/pseuds/prodigalpoet
Summary: Villanelle disappears after leaving Eve standing alone on the bridge. Years later, Eve receives a postcard.
Relationships: Eve Polastri/Villanelle | Oksana Astankova
Series: Soulmates [23]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1793398
Comments: 33
Kudos: 95





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> According to Wikipedia, "the swan song is a metaphorical phrase for a final gesture, effort, or performance given just before death or retirement. The phrase refers to an ancient belief that swans sing a beautiful song just before their death, having been silent during most of their lifetime."

You haven't heard from her in years. Come to think of it, you cannot even remember the last time she said your name in her thick, low accent: Eve. It must have been on the bridge. Did she really say it, then? Or did you manipulate your own memory because you desperately hoped that she did? 

There were days you prayed to hear her voice. Even on the days you hated her with every fiber of your being. Especially those days. You despised her for turning away from you on the bridge and disappearing from your sight without letting herself be discoverable to you. You thought she would let you find her but she never did. Time moved forward but you weren't able to shake her completely. You fucked people, sure, but you always wondered what she was doing, who she was sleeping with, if she was sleeping at all. You wondered if she was still working as an assassin or if her body had betrayed her. You could never imagine her doing anything else besides killing. You could only imagine her as you remembered her. Tall, powerful, intoxicating scent, lost, making you feel like the center of her world. Gone. Nobody had any answers and slowly, everybody lost touch with each other. You stopped caring about everybody else. Your thoughts always returned to her. The way she held your name in her mouth, no teeth, only tongue. A promise, once. 

One thing did remain constant over the years, that recurring dream which haunted you repeatedly. The one where she walked over to you on the bridge, kissed you on the forehead, took your hand in her own, and asked you to come with her. You did, without hesitation. Each time you wake up from that dream, your eyes are pooled with unshed tears and your chest is heaving at the glimpse of life you wish you had been able to taste with her. You know she wanted to build a future with you. You saw it in her eyes when she turned around to face you, a smile lifting the corners of her lips like those of upturned leaves. That image is still burned into your memory and your heart still shakes when you drop your eyelids and see a flash of her mustard yellow coat as she walked away from you and turned the corner. 

You grew old. You changed your number. You never remarried after Niko or had any children. You cooked all of your mother's recipes, desperately trying to recreate the feeling of home once she died. You thought you could forget about the past but now the past is hovering over your doorstep like a stray animal seeking shelter in the form of a postcard with nothing but an address and a date. One week from today. 

She wants you to come to her. After all this time. You think she might be dying. Or maybe she's already dead and has left you a house in a carefully drawn up will. Maybe it's not even her who sent you the postcard. It could even be Irina or Konstantin, two other ghosts who disappeared and left you searching, reaching out for nothing but hoping for something.

You book a flight and pack a suitcase. Your heart hammers against your chest, an animal trapped in a cage, howling to be set free. You look in the mirror and tell the animal inside: I'm so sorry, I understand now.

And then you wait.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Villanelle receives heartbreaking news and immediately sends Eve a postcard, seeking her out and hoping she will show up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: mention of major character death in this chapter (Konstantin via homicide).

You saw it, in your mind's eye, the future she referenced with you in it. You saw the house. You saw her walking through the front door, bags in both hands, coffee cup hanging from her lips, that stunning hair covering her shoulders. You saw the look in her eyes when she spotted you watching her from the kitchen, a smile altering your entire face as she dropped her things, removed her shoes, and walked over to you. You saw the two of you kiss, leaning across a countertop for the exchange. You saw yourself asking her how her day went while setting a table and sitting down across from her, heart beating loud and fast within your chest. You saw this scene repeat itself, winding through months and years, like a snake. But then you saw the snake, its jaw hanging open, wanting more to fill its belly, waiting to strike its next victim and swallow it whole. You saw emptiness unfold and cascade over those scenes like suicide. You couldn't be the hand holding the dagger above her chest. So you left her on that bridge. Didn't even give her the chance to look into the void. Just gave her a different kind. You took the monster with you and became it, striking over and over throughout the years, trying to fill that body of yours with as many bodies as possible so that when you looked back, hers wasn't the one you thought of.

But it was, wasn't it?

It was the first and the last body you saw when you woke up and went to sleep every day. Your bones ached. Your blood boiled. Your sheets were stained with sweat each night. Your screams were animalistic, raw. You wept so hard, you competed with the willows. You didn't think you could ever cry this much over someone else and damn, were you fucking wrong. You didn't think you could ever abandon sex but you did. You wanted to hear her voice tumble against your ears, feel her breasts beneath your palms, place your head between her legs and make her moan your name against the pillowcase. And since you couldn't get that, you fucked yourself so hard, you almost broke the headboard.

And then, one day, you received a call from an unknown number. Irina had tracked you down. Called you to tell you her father had been murdered. Your heart howled so loud, you wanted to rip it out of your chest and drown it. Your entire body trembled with rage and regret over your last conversation with him. Two weeks after you left her on that bridge. He urged you to reconsider the decision you made for you and for Eve. Said she wasn't looking too well. You told him to mind his own business and get the fuck out of your life. You never heard from him again. And now you never will.

You grab a postcard. You text Irina and ask her to find an address. She texts you the next morning. You write your address on the postcard along with a date. Then you walk over to the post office and drop the card off, your heart still pounding, your head aching, your entire body reeking with the stench of grief. 

And then you return to your house, fall into bed, and wait, her name rolling off of your tongue as sleep overtakes you and pulls you into the past.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eve and Villanelle meet.

When you arrive in Edinburgh, it is cold and the sky is overcast. You quickly order an Uber and try to compose yourself as the car takes you away from the airport and deep into the Scottish countryside. Your hands are shaking when you pull out your phone to send Elena a text. You reached out to her yesterday to let her know you were going to see Villanelle and she replied, telling you to be careful and providing you with information for a local friend of hers.

Your mouth is dry when you step out of the vehicle and you almost wish the driver would stay as your feet take you towards a beautiful yet unassuming home. Your eyes notice the wine red coloured door, the circular window to the right of it, the ivy crawling along the top of the building and over the roof.

"Eve."

A voice from behind you stops you dead in your tracks. A gasp catches in your throat and your fingers clench around the handle of your suitcase. 

"Eve."

This time, the voice is closer, causing the hairs on the back of your neck to stand up.

You want to turn but your feet cannot move. A hand grips your shoulder and squeezes and you exhale a shaky breath, eyes closing to the touch.

"You wore your hair down. I told you it looks good that way."

You smile at the faux bravado tainting Villanelle's voice, noting the nervousness underlying her words.You swallow and nod before finally turning around to face her. 

She is wearing a forest green hoodie with dark coloured jeans and black boots. Her hair is down and she seems taller then you remember. She is still unnervingly beautiful even though her face reflects fatigue and sorrow. Her eyes contain a sense of loneliness yet they're still as wide and observant as you remembered.

"Let me take that," Villanelle says, her voice rough with emotion before she grabs your bag. Her eyes rake over your entire body shamelessly and she seems to drink in your form from your face to your feet.

"Hi," you finally spit out, your skin burning up from the familiar intensity of Villanelle's gaze.

"You look good," Villanelle replies, a small smile sliding across her lips. When she notices you looking at them, she licks her bottom one before biting down on it.

"Come inside, it's cold out here and it's going to rain," Villanelle stammers gruffly, eyes suddenly shifting to the ground. 

Your heart stiffens at the sudden abruptness until Villanelle holds out her hand for you to take, offering you an invitation you wished she had given to you that night on the bridge. Seeing the expectancy on her face makes you set aside the simmering anger you have held towards her past actions. You slip your hand into her outstretched one and she tightens her grip around your fingers, opening the door and gently pulling you inside. You don't question why her door was unlocked but you suspect she was waiting across the road for you, wanting to see you before you could see her. This fact makes your heart constrict and you grip her fingers just as tightly, trying to let her know that you are in fact there with her.

You breathe a sigh of relief when she closes and locks the door behind you, gesturing for you to sit down on a large sofa in front of of a fireplace. She points out a hallway bathroom in case you want to wash up and she tells you she's taking your suitcase to the bedroom. You notice she doesn't say "a bedroom" and you hope that means you'll be sharing hers with her. After waiting to see her for so long, you don't think you could handle sleeping underneath the same roof as her and not be sharing her bed. You hear her come out of the bedroom and ask you if you want to eat and you nod, your body suddenly overcome with exhaustion. 

You have so many questions for her but they can wait. As she quietly hums in the kitchen, unbridled joy spilling out of her like light, you smile to yourself, knowing that you are alive and she is alive and both of you are safe. 

And finally, after all this time, you are together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on Twitter @compassionchasr

**Author's Note:**

> This was a fast-write exercise that I wrote after rewatching a fan video (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PHwwev3FgZw) which is why the piece is relatively short compared to my other ones; feel free to comment with ideas/suggestions or hit me up on twitter @compassionchasr
> 
> Thanks for reading. Stay home. Wear a mask. 
> 
> <3


End file.
